


Take Care of You

by kaeorin



Series: Stark Tower: Avengers Drabbles [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love, Morning Sex, Post-Mission, Protective Steve Rogers, Sexual Content, Stark Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: It seems unthinkable that someone as old as him could still possibly be learning new things about himself, but there’s just…something about you that brings it out in him. Accidental/newly-discovered daddy!kink.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Stark Tower: Avengers Drabbles [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050788
Comments: 10
Kudos: 270





	Take Care of You

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. Hell, it was pretty much the exact opposite: He’d seen you in battle, and you were terrifying. More than once, even as chaos rained down upon his enemies, he’d taken a moment to send out a silent prayer of gratitude that you were on his side, just so he didn’t have to face your full fury.

But he’d also seen you soft and sleepy, padding through the compound in cozy leggings and oversized sweaters. He’d always been an early riser, and you had taken to joining him at the table in the mornings when he got back from his runs. You’d stifle your yawns while you nursed an obscenely-large mug of coffee, and it usually drove him to distraction. He loved your duality: loved that you could hold your own against the types of villains you often faced, but also allow yourself to collapse against him in a fit of giggles.

Maybe that was what had drawn him to you in the first place, that softness. He’d always had a thing for women with iron backbones, but the way you let yourself be so vulnerable around him reawakened parts of him he hadn’t noticed in years. When he was small and sick and weak, he’d wanted so desperately to be strong enough to take care of his mother. He’d watched Bucky flirt and dance and he’d nursed a bitter jealousy that there were so many things that his body wouldn’t let him do. 

Now there was very little that his body _couldn’t_ do, and even with all the strength you had on your own, you still let him take care of you.

Tonight, you were in rough shape. You and Bucky had just flown back from an extended mission. Neither of you were seriously injured, but it only took one look for Steve to realize that you were in pain. He stood before you for a moment, giving you a chance to dodge him in case you didn’t want to be touched, but you closed the distance yourself and let yourself melt against him. He was very aware of his own strength as he held you, always careful to keep from crushing you. You, on the other hand, held him so tightly that he could feel your muscles begin to tremble. He looked at Bucky over your shoulder. He wasn’t in much better shape, but he did offer something like a cross between a grin and a grimace as he peeled off his body armor.

“Ask your girl how long she can dangle off the edge of a building with one arm while she’s holding me with the other,” he said grimly. Steve might have stepped away to fix you with a level glare, but you somehow tightened your grip on him. You hid your face beneath his chin and pressed soft kisses to his throat.

“Ask your boy how many of my fingers he threatened to break so I’d drop him twelve stories into a swarm of bad guys with guns,” you shot back. Despite the way you clung to him, your voice was rock steady. God, he loved you.

“Maybe let’s save the rest of this argument until you’ve both recovered a little, alright?” With a bit of difficulty, he pulled away from you just far enough to study your face. “Are you hungry?”

“’m just sleepy...” You lifted one hand to rub your eye, and he caught some of the scrapes on your fingers and knuckles. Without thinking, he reached out to bring your hand up to his lips so he could kiss each tiny wound. He hated the smell of your blood.

***

As soon as the two of you got back to your suite of rooms, you made your way towards the bed. He was just fast enough to catch you by your elbow before you could collapse onto the blankets in your full gear. “Whoa, hey, we should get you cleaned up first. Come on, let’s take a shower.”

You didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t miss the heavy sigh that escaped your lips as you followed him into the bathroom. It prickled his conscience a little—you really were exhausted. He left you standing in front of the mirror fumbling with the low bun you kept your hair in on missions, and ducked to run a bath. You could rest a little in a bath, he told himself, and of course he didn’t mind helping you bathe. 

“Hey, shower?” you asked softly, coming up behind him to slide your arms around his waist. His heart thudded in his chest. You really only got like this when you were on your third or fourth day without a decent night’s sleep, so he knew he should be worried, but he couldn’t deny the fact that you...did things to him when you were like this. You were so innocent and vulnerable. He reached down to ease your hands off of him, but only so he could turn around in your arms.

“You can sit down in a bath. You can’t do that in the shower.” He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for some sign of acceptance. He didn’t have to wait long. You nodded, and began trying to unfasten your body armor. Your fingers weren’t working quite right, so it only felt right for him to brush your hands aside so he could do it for you. 

A thrill ran through him as he undressed you, and he acknowledged it a bit uneasily. Was it sleazy of him to be turned on while doing this? This wasn’t something sexual. He was only trying to help you take care of yourself—the sooner this was finished, the sooner you could get some rest. But at the same time, you were his girl. He was intimately familiar with the soft planes of your body. Regardless of the context, you were beautiful. He scanned you for injuries as he undressed you. There were scrapes here and there, and a nasty bruise on your ribcage that looked suspiciously like a boot imprint and made his stomach clench with anger, but ultimately, you weren’t badly hurt. He ghosted his fingers up along the curve of your waist and then curled his hand protectively around the darkest part of the bruise. 

“It’s not that bad,” you said softly, moving to cover his hand with yours. “And he’s dead now anyway.”

“Good.” There was more heat in his voice than he’d intended. You were an Avenger. It was silly for him to get so worked up every time you got hurt at work, but...he hated it. He reassured himself with the fact that your eyes always flashed with rage and then sorrow when you saw his injuries after a mission. You felt the same way about him. He pulled you in closer and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Go ahead and test the water before you get in. Is it warm enough?”

He had to actively fight against his instinct to reach out and pinch your ass when you stooped to test the water, but you rewarded him with a beaming smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” You grabbed his hand to pull him closer so you could kiss him, and then you settled yourself into the tub. You sighed again, but this time there was more contentedness in the sound. Maybe his heart surged in his chest a little, with pride that he’d made you feel so good. 

He knelt beside the tub and reached out to touch you. “Dip your head under the water so we can get your hair wet, okay?” You seemed to struggle to open your eyes, but when you did, your brows knit with confusion. He didn’t need to hear your words to know what you were thinking; he laughed to himself and applied a little more pressure to guide your head backwards. “If you were really hanging from the edge of a building, I figure your arms are probably shot. Do you want some help?” But he’d already begun to wet your hair. It swirled out around you in the water, making you look rather like some kind of water nymph. He caught a tendril between his fingers.

“You’re too good to me,” you said, slowly but seriously. It wasn’t a _yes_ but it also wasn’t a _no._ Steve helped you sit up and then poured some of your shampoo into his palms. 

“Tilt your head back a little. And close your eyes.” You obeyed right away and without any kind of protest. He smiled to himself and carefully began to work the shampoo through your hair. _There’s my good girl._ The words came unbidden to the tip of his tongue, and he even opened his mouth to speak them aloud before he caught himself. Where had that come from? He swallowed and tried to distract himself by scrubbing gently at your scalp. “You deserve good things,” he finally said, belatedly responding to your earlier observation.

Every member of the Avengers had their own tragic backstory. He knew most of yours—more than any other member of the team knew, anyway—and while he could usually push it to the side, it got even harder during moments like these, when you let yourself be soft and vulnerable with him. Not everyone in your situation could still do that. It made him treasure these times even more.

“You’re the best thing,” you murmured even as he guided you backwards again to rinse your hair. He stole a glance at your face. Your eyes were closed, and the corners of your mouth just barely curved upwards. You looked...angelic. Except, maybe, for the split on your lower lip that he was only just now noticing. Anger surged through him again and he reached to brush the tip of his finger against this new wound. “He’s dead now too.”

“Didn’t you leave anyone for Bucky?” Maybe he should have been more unnerved by the satisfaction he got out of this, but those men had dared to lay their hands on _his girl_. They got what they deserved.

“Please, you know he was holding his own.” Your smile grew a little larger, but you did not open your eyes or try to sit up. You were just letting him hold you, letting him play with your hair. His heart was racing again. “That man makes me look like a delicate princess in the field.”

Steve helped you sit up and gently squeezed some of the water out of your hair to keep it from dripping all over you. He reached past you for the soap, and rubbed it into a lather on your skin. Even when he caressed the places you were scraped or bruised, he noted, you didn’t flinch away from him. You trusted him not to hurt you. He swallowed hard. “Well, you are _my_ princess, you know,” he said in a rush. Maybe it was the fact that you were letting him take care of you like this. Maybe he was just tired. He braced himself for your reaction, ready for you to bite back or ridicule the idea that you could ever be this soft, this...precious.

But your irritation didn’t come. He stole a glance at your face even as he washed your chest. You still wore that tiny half-smile. “Maybe so,” you said slowly, thoughtfully. Your words seemed heavier than a simple agreement. “But _delicate_?”

The disgusted look on your face made warmth rush through Steve’s body again, and he tweaked your nipples playfully as he laughed. “That’s a good point.”

He made quick work of the rest of your body. He would have loved to tease you a bit as he washed between your legs, would have loved to slip his fingers inside you and bring you to climax right there in the warm water, but he decided against it. You might get the wrong idea, might think that he was trying to start something that you’d have to finish for him, even though he only wanted to make you feel good. 

When he was finished, he helped you to your feet and began to dry you with a towel. You didn’t fight him. Yet another clear sign that you were exhausted. He said nothing as he took care to dry you off completely, not even when he rubbed the towel through your hair. You leaned into him for support, your arms sliding low around his waist. When he finished with your hair, he uncovered your face and kissed the tip of your nose. Did you know what you did to him when you let him take care of you like this? Surely not.

“Thank you,” you murmured in a voice both sweet and sleepy, before hiding your face against his chest. “I love you so much.”

His heart skipped a beat (could you hear it?) and he slid his fingers through your hair to hold you closer to him. “Thank _you_ ,” he replied. There weren’t quite words for everything he wanted to say to you. “Are you doing okay?”

You didn’t bother to answer aloud, and instead chose to nod your head against him. He laughed to himself and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before gently guiding you back into the bedroom. Once there, you started towards your dresser, but he nudged you towards your mattress instead. “I’ve got you. Sit down.”

He pulled out a pair of your sleep shorts and a t-shirt that he recognized as his own, and then helped you dress for bed. It was hard to miss the way your arms trembled when you held them up in the air to let him put on your shirt. He took one of your arms in his hands and rubbed it, trying to soothe some of the pain out of your muscles. It wasn’t long before you were groaning. He recognized the sound: pleasure with just the slightest edge of pain. Oh, you were going to be sore in the morning. He spent a few minutes massaging each of your arms, and then finally lowered them both to your sides.

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to get you some pain meds. Stay here.” You drew in a sharp breath, as though to protest, but Steve moved to stand between your legs to keep you from standing up. He tilted your chin up so you could look at him and brushed some of your hair behind your ear. Something in your face softened and you gave just the barest hint of a nod. Gratified, Steve stepped back and went to search through your medicine cabinet. Only moments later, he returned to you, carrying a pill and a glass of water. You accepted both with a murmured thanks and drank the pill down with several gulps of water. When you started to hand the glass back to him, he shook his head and nudged it back towards you. “Drink it all, please. I’m sure you didn’t get enough water while you were away.”

You didn’t deny it, and instead dutifully downed the rest of the water. Once again he had to stop himself from calling you his good girl. What had gotten into him tonight? Hoping to distract himself a bit, he stepped between your legs again and combed his fingers through your damp hair. While he did, you wrapped your arms around his waist again and pressed your face against his stomach. You were always so charmingly clingy when you were tired. He smoothed down your hair until all of the tangles were gone and your hair felt like silk. He didn’t love the idea of letting you go to sleep with wet hair, but he also didn’t love the idea of trying to get you to let him blow-dry it for you. Perhaps it was simply the lesser of two evils.

“You ready for bed?” He asked, however pointlessly. You tightened your arms around him in response, and he thought he felt you nod. He squeezed your arms before pulling them off of him, and guided you backwards to lie down on the mattress. It was simple enough to lift you up in order to reposition you so your head was on a pillow, and to pull the blankets out from under you, despite the little groan of protest that you made. He stretched out on top of you for a moment, relishing how small you felt beneath him, how safe. After a while, though, he rolled off of you and to the side. You reached out to grasp his shirt.

“Don’t leave?” Your voice was soft, almost pleading. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing quietly.

“As if I could. I’m turning off the light. I’ll be right back.”

And he was. He slipped under the covers with you and then pulled them up to settle them over your shoulders. You curled close beside him, your head resting on his shoulder while one of your legs slipped over his. He’d never get tired of the way you felt beside him. He pulled you even closer and turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead. You sighed happily and turned to hide your face where his neck met his shoulder.

“I love you, Daddy.” 

Your voice was hazy, faraway, like you were already more than half asleep. But your words were clear. You gave no sign of having realized exactly what you said to him, and before long, he heard your breathing change as you fell asleep.

He remained wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

His cock was painfully hard.

***

Morning sunlight filtered through your curtains, filling the room with a soft, almost dreamlike, light. Steve was hesitant to open his eyes. He was on his side now, spooning you with his arm slung protectively across your belly. Your hair was tickling his face, but he wasn’t sure he really minded. He pulled you closer and kissed your shoulder. Still asleep, you gave a breathy sigh and nestled even closer to him.

Moving almost lazily, he allowed his fingertips to trace gentle patterns against your skin, until he was cupping your breast in his palm. He caressed it thoughtfully even as your words from last night echoed in his head. 

You were exhausted, drained, barely even conscious. You hadn’t realized what you were saying. Your words should _not_ still be plaguing him. He’d laid awake for hours even after you conked out last night. He’d been around long enough to catch the jokes that people made nowadays. He knew that there were plenty of people who joked about Daddies, and probably even some people who actually called their lovers Daddy. He’d never given it much of a second thought, though: certainly not enough thought to realize that it turned him on the way it had last night. Was he someone who could like being called Daddy? His mind spun out of control, conjuring up images of you sitting astride him, gazing down at him with big, hungry eyes and whimpering the word ‘Daddy’ at him.

You shifted in his arms, whining a little, and it was only then that he realized he was pinching your nipple. He loosened his grip with a whispered apology and you arched your back to rub your bottom against him. His fantasies had already begun to take effect, and he knew exactly when you noticed. You all but purred and ground yourself against him a few more times.

“Did you have sweet dreams?” you asked in your sleep-rough voice, as though you didn’t realize that you were already his sweetest dream. 

His throat felt dry. Maybe it was now or never. He kissed your shoulder again and made a sound of disagreement. “I was thinking about you,” he said. “And last night.”

“Last night?” He could almost hear the way you were trying to remember what had happened. He was tempted to let you try to recall it on your own, but after a few moments he decided he really didn’t have the patience for that this morning. He bit down gently on your skin.

“You called me Daddy.”

Though you didn’t try to wriggle out of his arms, he did feel your back go stiff. When he lifted his head to get a look at you, your cheeks were flushed, your eyes clenched shut. Was that embarrassment or regret?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Embarrassment, then. He held you a little tighter and pressed his hips against your backside so you could feel his arousal. “No, hey, don’t apologize.” He was all but breathing in your ear now, something that he’d long ago discovered you rather liked. “I liked it. A lot.” You remained stiff for a few more moments, even as he rutted against you to reassure you of the truth in his words. Finally, finally, you relaxed against him again. He rewarded you with a kiss just behind your earlobe. His hand trailed down your body again, and lifted your leg to pull it backwards over his own. You were so soft in his arms, letting him move you without a single protest. He kissed you again even as his hand crept past the waistband of your shorts. Without much preamble, he parted your outer lips and slid his fingers between them. You were so warm. Carefully, he traced circles around your clit until he felt it awaken beneath his touch, felt your arousal swell. “I can be your Daddy, if you want me.”

A quiet, tortured sigh escaped your lips as he found a rhythm. He held tight to that rhythm until your hips were thrusting against him, until his fingertips grew slick with your desire. Only then did he stop, to your great dismay, given the low whine that he elicited from you. He chuckled low in his chest and slid his fingers down a bit, to glide against your entrance. 

“Do you want that, princess? Do you want me to be your Daddy? Do you want to be my baby girl?” He wasn’t entirely sure this was what people did, but...it felt right. Maybe that was all that mattered.

You whimpered again and arched your hips forward, clearly angling for More. He tutted against your ear. “I need to hear the words, princess. Find your words.”

“Please,” you gasped, your hand coming down to clasp your fingers around his forearm. “I want you. Daddy...”

Perfect. He growled out his pleasure in your ear even as he sank two of his fingers inside you. If you were warm on the outside, you were searing heat on the inside. Your fingers tightened until they trembled around his arm, reminding him how close he’d come to losing you yesterday. He tried not to let that desperation creep into his thrusts, but he wasn’t sure exactly how successful he was. 

“You’re so good to me,” he whispered to you even as his thumb sought out your clit. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? My good, pretty girl?” Maybe you were already too far gone to form any more words, because the most he got out of you was another desperate plea and a soft whimper. He was tempted to stop, then, and make you wait, but he just...couldn’t. You’d already given him so much by being so willing to play along with this; he wanted to give something back to you. “Are you going to come already, pretty girl? Do you want to come right here on your Daddy’s fingers?”

“Y-yes!” you managed, though it clearly took a lot of effort to produce the word. He couldn’t keep the beaming smile off of his face. This was all so new, but god if it didn’t feel exactly right. He kissed that same spot behind your earlobe.

“Well, go on, then. Let me feel how good I’m making you feel. Come for me, sweetheart.” 

It wasn’t instant, but he didn’t exactly expect it to be instant. He knew your body well enough to know what you looked like just before you climaxed, to know how your muscles clamped around him. He tightened his free arm around you to hold you steady and nipped at your earlobe.

“Oh! Daddy, oh...” your voice was low and breathy, with that telltale edge of desperation. He pressed on, whispering encouraging words into your ear, until you were finally coming apart right there in his arms. He didn’t stop touching you until all the lovely little aftershocks ripped through you, until that glorious languorous stretching in your muscles turned to painful little twitches. Even so, he left his fingers deep inside you, and kissed your neck. 

You groaned, something that sounded like it was pulled from the very depths of your being, and tried to roll over onto your back. Only then did he carefully pull away from you. You grasped his wrist and pulled his fingers up to your lips, holding eye contact with him as you sucked them clean. There was mischief in your eyes. When you slid your tongue between his fingers, more teasing now than cleaning, he smirked and pinched your tongue between them, then slowly pulled away. 

“That was...really good,” you said. Something in your voice sounded shy, which made him want to scoop you into his arms and hold you close. Instead, he caressed your cheek. “Like... _really_ good.”

“I take it you like the Daddy thing too, then.” It wasn’t even really a question. Your lips curled into a shy smile as you nodded. Beneath the covers, your hand crept closer to him and closed around his cock. He was so hard that even the simple pressure of your fingers felt good.

You kept a hold on him even as you got to your knees and found your place between his legs. You released him only so you could tug his briefs down a bit, just far enough to free his erection. “Can I take care of you now, Daddy?” You looked up at him along the length of his body, your eyes wide and innocent. He had to admit, the thought of you closing your lips around him was enticing, but he wasn’t sure...

“Not like that,” he said. The strain of turning you down made his voice gruff. “I want you to come with me.”

“Oh, please?” How did you know just how to plead with him? “I promise I won’t make you come. I just want to taste you, Daddy...”

Oh, fuck. He leaned backwards into the pillows and sighed heavily. If you weren’t already so battered from your mission, he longed to fuck you straight into this goddamn mattress. His hand fisted in the sheets. “Alright, fine.” A thought occurred to him, and it made him laugh a little self-consciously. “But if you let me come in your mouth, I’ll have to...spank you.”

“Is that a promise?” But, apparently satisfied with his permission, you closed your mouth around the very tip of his cock. Even that was enough to make him shudder and grit out your name in a warning tone. You took the hint and remained frozen, grasping the base with your hand until he got himself back under control. When he did, you moved slowly, dipping your head low to take as much of his length as you could. He pressed against the back of your throat. Feverishly, he thought about gripping the back of your head and forcing his way all the way down your throat, but he kept his fingers locked in the sheets instead. Not today. Maybe someday, depending on how you wanted this to play out. When you lifted your head again, you let him slip out of your lips with a soft little pop, and flicked your tongue across the very tip. “You taste so good.”

He groaned. He was throbbing in your hand—you had to feel that, didn’t you? He wanted so badly to feel you come with him, to feel your muscles milking him dry as you came together, but he was already so close. Could he get you there in time? You lowered your head again, but this time only trailed your tongue along his length, teasing. Gradually, he eased off of the edge, not getting quite enough stimulation even despite the lovely warmth. It was like he slipped into a trance, caught between the ebb and pull of orgasm as you switched between taking him nearly down your throat and those sweet little kitten-licks. 

After minutes—or, hell, what did he know: maybe days—you pulled back and looked up at him again. “Daddy, can I fuck you now?”

Something tightened low in his stomach and he reached to pull you up along his body. His cock was pinned against your wetness, rubbing against your clit, and he savored your breathy sigh.

“Ride me like this for a little bit first,” he said, reaching to grip your hips. “Get yourself close, princess, because I don’t know how long I’m going to last once I’m inside you.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You found just the right rhythm with your hips: quick enough that he soon felt your arousal dripping from you, but not so quick that it got him too close. You braced yourself with your hands flat against his chest, which gave him the perfect view of your breasts as you gasped for breath. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had done something like this—you both knew each others’ bodies almost as well as your own—but somehow there was something new about it.

When your breaths grew shuddery, bracing, he pulled up on your hips just enough to break contact between you. You whined and tried to press against him again, but then fell still. “Already so needy?” he teased, arching his own hips this time to brush his cock against you. “I want to fuck you now. Are you ready for your Daddy’s cock?”

“Oh god,” you whimpered, meeting his eyes. Your pupils were huge, even in the morning light. “Please? Let me take it, please? Can I? Daddy, please?”

He smiled. It wasn’t often that he had the patience to get you so worked up that you begged like this. Maybe this whole thing felt new for you, too. He reached between you to guide his cock to your entrance. You were soaking wet, and burning up. “Take it slow, okay?” If you sank down on him all at once, he wasn’t sure he could keep it together.

You did as he asked, taking him inch by inch even as your legs trembled. When he was finally fully ensheathed, he held you still against him so he could take it all in. You’d been gone for weeks. He’d thought about this, thought about how warm and soft you were—not even just in this context, but just...in general. Many nights he’d spilled his seed over his fingers before finally dropping into a fitful doze. Nothing compared to the real thing.

“Fuck, I missed your cock,” you breathed. There was a trace of laughter in your voice. 

“As soon as that rib heals up, I’m going to—” But he had to cut himself off with a groan as you tightened your muscles around him. He arched up higher, somehow driving himself deeper inside you. “You won’t walk right for days.”

“I can’t wait.” With that, you slowly began rolling your hips. Most of his length remained solidly inside you as you moved, grinding against him more than anything else. He loved to feel the way you stretched to accommodate him. You had the self-control to keep this up for hours, and he knew that from past experience. He let your velvet warmth wash over him, filling him with a peace that he’d been missing since the day you boarded that jet. This was where he belonged, and where you belonged. If he could spend the rest of his life buried in your sweet cunt, he’d happily do it.

His hands roamed your body, mostly caressing you and touching just to touch. Here and there, he pinched or tugged on your nipples, and was always rewarded by a pleasant tightening of your muscles. He gripped your knees, spread them a little further apart so he could watch himself slide in and out of you, and that was almost enough to do him in. He was soaked in your arousal, and throbbing with his own. He reached out with his thumb to circle your clit once or twice, and was pleased when you faltered ever so slightly in your movements. He looked up at you, only to realize that you were already watching him with dark eyes.

“You feel so _fucking_ good, princess,” he said. His voice was thick. “Are you ready to come again?”

“I’ve been there for ages,” you said. He didn’t doubt your words: that familiar desperation was back in your voice. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Go ahead then, let go. Come around your Daddy’s cock. I want to feel you.” He pressed his thumb to your clit: He knew you always came hardest when he filled you like this, but he wanted to add something a little different. Sure enough, you gasped and let your head drop forward. Your body moved almost automatically now, a little faster than you had been, as your body strained toward climax. When your muscles clamped down around him, almost viselike in your pleasure, that was all he needed. Soon, he was following you into orgasm, fighting against the press of your body even as he filled you up. 

It felt like it lasted a lifetime, but eventually he came back into his senses. You were still sitting astride him, hands flat against his chest as you sought to catch your breath. Your eyes were bright, your lips were smiling, and your cunt was still tight and warm. He knocked your elbows out from under you and pulled you flat against his chest, arching to pump himself a little deeper inside you.

“I came so hard just then,” you said softly, incredulity coloring your words. He laughed and stroked your hair. 

“So did I,” he confessed. “I _really_ like being your Daddy.”

When you whimpered and squirmed in his arms, he grinned and turned his head to bury his face in the side of your neck. You laid there a while, each simply taking enjoyment from the other’s body. Steve thought you’d fallen asleep again, until you shot up to look at him with wide eyes.

“Tony can never know about this,” you said in a rush. “He would _never_ let it go.”

Despite himself, Steve laughed and reached up to soothe your crinkled brow. You had a point. He wasn’t anxious to know what kinds of inappropriate commentary Tony Stark would dream up if he ever found out that Captain America had a daddy kink. He sat up a bit to capture your lips in a kiss. “It’s just between us. Princess.”


End file.
